


In which Tony can't catch a break, and Obadiah tries to fix things

by Skull_Bearer



Series: Sex, Love and Robotics [3]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Beta Pepper Potts, Covers the rest of IM1, Creepy Obadiah, F/M, M/M, Omega Tony Stark, Omegaverse, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Sexual Harassment, Trauma, canon character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-11
Updated: 2014-04-11
Packaged: 2018-01-18 23:12:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1446307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skull_Bearer/pseuds/Skull_Bearer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony holes up with his bot family and the beginnings of Iron Man, but the world outside is closing in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In which Tony can't catch a break, and Obadiah tries to fix things

**Author's Note:**

> Covers the rest of Iron Man 1.

Just that one conference, and it's done. Tony can breathe again. No more deaths, no more Stark Tech in the hands of psychopaths, no more families getting blown up. But there's a nagging doubt that those psychopaths are probably going to find and use other weapons to blow families up (although they can use Hammer Tech anytime. Tony will point at that smoking disaster crater and laugh superiorly), worse, they probably still have his weapons. He doubts that was the Ten Rings' only weapon cache.

He needs to stop them. He needed to stop them yesterday. And his suit stopped them two weeks ago.

The call to Rhodey doesn't go well. Tony would blame not being there in person to woo Rhodey with his irresistible charms, but that rarely worked anyway. All he'd have managed would be to blow his big secret on day one with his body shouting 'Hi! I'm going into Heat!' to anyone with a functioning set of nostrils.

He wouldn't have thought Rhodey was mad at him as well. He hadn't seen him since being picked up at the airport, but surely-

-Rhodey was his military liaison. Military brass would not have been happy with the sudden Stark dearth of new toys, and shit loves rolling downhill. Yeah, Rhodey would be pissed.

Or rather, he would be pissed until he saw what Tony came up with next, then he would be drooling like a puppy for a squeaky bone and begging Tony to make him one. And if he asked really nicely, Tony might just do that.

Still, probably not marketable. The thought of what a psycho like Baldy could do with even his old suit is pretty scary. He can program it with biometric data, make it work for him, blow up for anyone who's bad news and just do nothing for anyone else.

Well, maybe work for Rhodey. And Pepper. Just in case. If they asked him nicely enough.

 

* * *

 

 

He puts Dummy on fire duty because the damn bot wouldn't let him get off the ground otherwise. And he's recording this. Because if it all explodes he would like to leave a record of what not to do for future generations. And because You needed something to do or he'd sulk. And if Tony told You to do something he'd have to give Butterfingers something too or they'd have a fight. So he's in charge of lights. Because Tony lives with two robots with the pride and attention span of toddlers.

Maybe because he's distracted, or because the numbers they ran made even less sense than expected, but the world makes an easy, vertical revolution to a solid concrete wall, and Tony wakes up a few moments later covered in dry ice.

It's not as frustrating as it should be, and Tony's fairly sure he's thinking more clearly. Maybe because he knows he can do this, or because it's actually kinda fun if he doesn't count the concussion, or because for the first time in his life he's doing something that really matters.

Or maybe because he's not spending every day drugged to the eyeballs.

Just maybe.

And the suit, it's just... it's taking shape, smooth rolled titanium instead of hammered iron, shaped around his body instead of beaten into roughly the right shape with the hope that Tony will be flexible (or just squishy) enough to fit inside it without too much pain (his right knee still hurts from a badly-placed rivet).

This is not beaten iron, this is not scavenged scrap and cobbled-together wiring. This is beautiful. It's... it is the same sense he had making the second arc reactor, everything just coming together and it's so fucking beautiful and it's so fucking amazing it takes his breath away. Everything coming together under his hands, as though he was speaking them in existence. Speaking in metal.

The arc reactor was poetry, the only kind Tony can bring himself to like. This isn't poetry, although it's beautiful enough. This is a challenge. A threat where the first suit was screamed defiance.

 

* * *

 

He goes into Heat two days later.

This time it's not a surprise or just waking up and 'boom'. Tony's sitting at the workbench working on a repulsor and starts to come out of his creation haze from wherever he's been. There's this weird slow prickle up his spine, long and liquid and really, really good. And there's no shock or panic or more than an 'oh well, it was coming.'

Tony gets up, "Lock down please, Jarvis." The lights dim, the door locks and the windows black out.

"Yes sir."

He picks up a tablet and walks over to the couch, lies down and starts stripping off. The prickling is spreading, sending goose bumps over his skin.

"Sir?"

"Yeah?" Tony picks up one of the toys he's got stashed by the couch. Dildos and vibrators and some high-energy food and a lot of water. He wonders if all Omegas have an emergency Heat kit. He's surprised no one's thought of marketing them. Oh well, something to fall back on if the reactor plan doesn't work out.

"What am I to say if Ms Potts wants to come in?"

"That I'm doing something very delicate which may explode at any moment." His voice stutters at the last words as the switch goes off in his head and his body goes from zero to a thousand in a split-second.

"Quite."

Tony can't quite stifle a grin. He curls up and presses the toy against his hole, he's already wet enough that it just goes in and the itching burn of want and now that's starting to kick off is doused almost at once into a warm glow of satisfaction of finally giving his body what it wants. The dildo is long enough to reach and -oh yes, there - and broad enough to stretch him and press against his prostate -oh yes, yes there, yes -

Tony is aware on some level that he's saying this out loud, feels vaguely embarrassed, but then he frees one hand to stroke over his cock and yeah, then everything is right with the world. The angle is a bit awkward but he manages to pull the toy out and slide it back in, building up a really good rhythm that's got him shuddering and seeing stars and yeah yeah more of that yeah please-

He comes almost without thinking, bone deep shuddering and spilling hot over his own hand. Tony groans and lets go of the dildo, still buried inside him. He stretches, feeling it move inside him in a way that's really oddly satisfying.

The break is barely enough to let him catch his breath before the next wave is up and ready to go. He's looser now, and the toy goes in and out more easily. It's not quite enough anymore and the burning is back in a chorus of wantwantwant

Tony rolls over on his stomach and arches up, trying a different angle and - oh wow yeah - that's why the dildo had that weird curve - it hits just right just there and Tony gives a long- drawn out groan that's muffled by the couch cushions.

Then the place he's pressing against just slips and unknots and then everything's just fucking fireworks and Tony's all but purring against the cushions because fuck that feels so fucking good. It's the relief of having at itch scratched and the slow knotting coil of coming orgasm and so much fucking happy that Tony could be having dopamine injected into his spine and still not feel this good.

He rubs his face against the fabric of the couch and the roughness is so good on skin that seems to be determined to feel everything and fuck he just wants someone to touch him everywhere right now. He wants to tell Jarvis to forget about turning Pepper away and instead get her down here right now because Tony really really wants to share this with someone and latch on to them and not let go and bury his face in their hair and touch them and have them touch him until he can smell them all over himself and himself all over them.

"I doubt that would be a good idea."

He barely hears Jarvis, but the words still send a kick of emptiness through him that the dildo isn't really doing anything to help. He wants someone here, wants to feel their skin and have them fill him and knot him and he can only feel couch fabric and smell oil and himself and that's not enough anymore-

His groan, when he comes, isn't entirely pleasure this time.

 

* * *

 

 

Tony can't really remember much of the last three days - which is what Jarvis is telling him it's been. Without anyone there, or any satisfaction outside toys, the Heat is determined to stick around and Tony can't quite shake it off. It could be anything from twelve hours to another forty-eight before it's finally over. The gaps between the waves are lengthening, and Tony spends those periods eating, drinking (he's never been this thirsty, even after he crashed in the desert) and sometimes even fiddling with the armor code

The worst of the bone-deep burning has faded, leaving Tony with an irritating itch under every inch of his skin and a heavy block of loneliness in his stomach.

He'd never really realised why many Omegas preferred, if they weren't Bonded, to live with other Omegas in those weird little communes Seth McFarlane liked to make fun of and Fox News painted as little more than whorehouses. Having people there who understood, who could help you in a Heat and take you down afterwards. Or why it was pretty much tradition for a first Heat to be with other Omegas.

No wonder Yinsen had seemed to know what to do.

And with that it's as though the weight inside him gives a horrible wrench and Tony is crying before he knows what's happen. Not the stifled tears he'd not been able to stop during his escape, but huge, world-tearing sobs that tear free from his chest so hard his lungs catch against the arc reactor.

He tries to breathe, tries to calm down but each great, broken sob makes him shudder and gasp and moan and he can't stop. It hurts. It hurts and it hurts and it hurts. It hurts and he wants it to stop-

He beats his head on the couch and curls up, head knocking against his knees. He wants it to stop he wants it never to have happened why did it have to happen why that why any of it why him why did he have to die-

The matted, oily cloth of a blanket is dropped on him and Tony wraps himself in it, peering up from the knot of his own body to meet Dummy's camera. He can see himself in the lens, tear-stained and snotty and looking absolutely awful.

Dummy touches his hair, the vulnerable curve of his neck, so lightly Tony just feels the chill of his steel.

"Hey." He manages. And then, because at least someone is there with him, he feels maybe a little better.

 

* * *

 

Tony has no idea what to do if anyone comes down to the workshop, the whole place stinks of Heat and sex and there's only so much ventilation can do. He's probably going to have to scrap the couch and Tony doesn't know how to do that without someone noticing the really, really blindingly obvious. He's probably going to have to set it on fire and pretend it was a lab accident.

Fortunately he tries to carry on testing to keep his mind off anything else, and when Pepper finally gives up and comes to see him, the workshop has had so many holes blasted in it, so many small fires (which Dummy has delighted in putting out, You has filmed, and Butterfingers, in a fit of pique at having been left out, turned the lights off and on) so much melted metal and scorched plastic and wiring that the smell of anything besides oil, hot metal and dust is long gone.

He's pretty sure it's gone from him as well, Pepper didn't notice anything and- well, she's Pepper. She would have noticed. She's Pepper.

But when they go upstairs there's Obadiah, and he looks at Tony, and there's something in his eyes that send cold chills down Tony's spine. His instincts have at least stopped screaming Mate! at him as loud as they can, but the change to Run! isn't much of an improvement.

He feels very small, and very vulnerable, and maybe it's his own fault for cutting reactor holes in every shirt he has for monitoring purposes, but he slows at the top of the stairs and has to convince himself that advancing is a good idea.

He aims for Pepper instead. Pepper is safe. His clapped out brain-damaged instincts at least get that right. But Pepper is pretty much on the edge of being an Alpha, maybe a handful of DNA strands short of being able to rut and knot, and hell, Rhodey is a full Alpha and neither of them have the same crawling sensation he gets around Obie. He's not even smoking and Tony still doesn't want to go near him.

He sits next to Pepper, and has to fight down the urge to get closer, ideally in her lap to get away from what his stupid fucking brain is convinced is a rival Alpha and Pepper is Beta and that is Obie and oh fuck why is Tony doing this to himself?

Obie picks up a box of pizza and walks over to sit next to them. The welcome smell of pizza overwhelms anything else and for a moment Tony can breathe without flinching. Pepperoni. New York Pepperoni. God damn he loves Obie.

"It would have gone better if you were there." Obie continues, they're only an inch apart and Tony takes a bite of pizza to drown out the fit of nerves. There, food. Food is a primal instinct, right? Leave me the hell alone.

"You told me to lay low. That's what I've been doing." Obie's so close. How he's managing Tony has no idea because he must absolutely reek right now.

"This was a board of directors meeting." Obie drops a hand on Tony's knee, it's the first human contact Tony's had since Pepper put in the arc reactor and the confused comfort/fear response has him wanting to climb the walls to get away.

It takes him a moment to process what Obie is saying. "This was a board of directors meeting?"

"The board is claiming you have posttraumatic stress. They're filing an injunction. They want to lock you out."

His mouth is so dry he can't swallow his mouthful of pizza. "We own the controlling interest in the company."

"Tony," He leans forward, too close. His grip on Tony's knee tightens, just a little. "The board has rights, too. They're making the case that you and your new direction isn't in the company's best interest."

It's like a huge fucking weight. Obie is too close, he's right in Tony's face, hot Alpha scent burning his nose and his fingers are digging into the old bruise left by that rivet. An unspoken and totally accidental threat Obie probably doesn't know he's making- I can hurt you if you don't submit.

Pulling out is like fighting not to drown. "I'm being responsible! That's a new direction for me, for the company. I mean, me on the company's behalf being responsible for the way that..." He's babbling. He's terrified that if he stops talking Obie will say something else and he'll go under again and stay down, show his throat and Stark Industries will go straight back to making weapons and it'll all happen again only Tony won't get away this time because the universe only has so much patience with phenomenal fuckups.

He has to get out. He can't fucking breathe.

Obie leans down and Tony manages to stifle a hiss of pain, Obie's hand keeping him pinned in place. The grip is like iron. A grip evolution tells him he can't break. He can't move, he can't breathe and Obie is just too close. The panic rising in his throat gives him that extra bit of strength to force himself to stand up, Obie's hand falling from his leg. "Oh, come on. Tony. Tony."

"I'll be in the shop." He grabs the pizza just to do something with his hands.

"Hey, hey! Hey, Tony. Listen." Obie stands. Tony holds the pizza box a little tighter like the most stupid shield in existence. He closes until they're side by side, their backs to Pepper. "I'm trying to turn this thing around, but you gotta give me something." His hand drops to Tony's shoulder, although the grip is light, even comforting if Tony wasn't already so jumpy it just makes him want to be sick.

Obie taps the front of the arc reactor, the vibrations go deep into Tony's body and his breath stutters. "Let me have the engineers analyze that. You know, draw up some specs." There's nothing about his words Tony can pinpoint, but it's that weight again, that urge to roll over and submit. He wonders if every Alpha has that voice. It makes him want to scream yes take the reactor, I'll totally trade getting my heart mangled if you just get the fuck away from me now please

"No. No, absolutely not."

"It'll give me a bone to throw the boys in New York." he leans forward, his hand drops to the small of Tony's back, the vulnerable curve of his spine.

Tony all but jumps away, Obie moves forward and only manages to catch the pizza when Tony drops it.

"This one stays with me. That's it, Obie. Forget it." Hands raised. From the corner of his eye he can see Pepper watching them, confused.

"All right, well, this stays with me, then." And like that, it's gone. The whole scary Alpha far too close thing is gone and Tony is just looking at Obie, Obie, holding the ridiculous pizza box. He feels so, so stupid. What is his malfunction that some support and advice from one of his oldest friends just sets him off like this?

"Go on, here, you can have a piece."

"Thank you." He tries to mean it. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm such a fuckup, and I freak out over nothing.

"You mind if I come down there and see what you're doing?"

Hell no. Pepper might not have smelt anything but Obie definitely would. "Good night, Obie."

He crashes on the couch, the pizza slices go on the floor and are promptly rolled over by Butterfingers coming to see what the fuss is about. Tony drops his head and tries to breathe. That's what you have to do, right? Head between your legs? Or was it breathe in a paper bag? Whatever. Tony tries not to throw up the slices he's already eaten.

"Sir?" Jarvis' voice is oddly soft.

"What?!" Tony snaps. His head is hurting and he feels sick and shaking.

"You might like to know that Mr Stane has left the premises."

Oh thank god. Thank fucking god.

"Would you like me to lock him out in future?"

"No! God no, Jarvis, why?"

"He made you uncomfortable sir." There's almost an element of uncertainty there.

"What! What did he do? Did he do anything wrong? Y'know, besides bringing me fucking pizza?"

"I do not know enough about human interaction to judge sir."

"Fuck." Tony drops back and buries his face in his hands. Jarvis is smart but he's also only eight years old, and that's eight years with Tony and Pepper as examples of human interactions. No wonder he's lost. "No J, that was normal. I'm the screwup here."

"You were uncomfortable."

"Because I can't process normal human interaction, yeah, that's great."

Jarvis doesn't answer.

Tony breathes, tries to relax. To think of something else. "Okay guys," he gets up, slips on the ruined pizza and has to catch hold of You to stay upright. "Clean that up, then it's Return of the Flying ScrewUp, phase two. Okay?"

 

* * *

 

Dummy is still on fire duty. Mostly because if Tony takes the fire extinguisher away Dummy hangs on to him instead, not letting him go near the armor. Damn over-protective bots.

"City college," he reminds Dummy, who looks ashamed but doesn't put down the extinguisher.

Maybe he can fit them all with repulsors, and then they can be Flying ScrewUps: The Gang. Mob. Posse. Whatever the collective is. Oh well, time to brain himself against the walls again.

And - and he's flying. Hovering. Something. He's in the air. And oh god it's even better than before. He can feel the energy under his hands, his feet, but it's his, under his control, it's working. Holy fuck, it's working.

He's flying.

He half-trashes his workshop, but he's flying. Holy shit. Holy shit. It's just - there is nothing more awesome than this. He feels like he's five years old or something, with the most amazing new toy in existence. Who cares if the cars need thousands of dollars in new paint, when is he ever going to need a car again? He can fucking fly.

He isn't going to wait another five minutes. He can barely wait until Jarvis has finished bolting on the rest of the suit. Dummy looks up at him imploringly and yeah, no way is Tony letting him fly. "Ah-ah, no way. You are staying here."

Dummy lowers his camera to the ground. You and Butterfingers are already sulking. The suit interface brings up lines of their code complaining how unfair it all was that they get left behind while Jarvis comes along. Tony grins.

The suit flexes around him. It feels good. It feels pretty indestructible actually. Safe. A good place. Tony takes in a breath and can just smell himself within the suit, himself, oil and newly cast metal. Everything that's been rattling in his head since Obie came just settles down. Even the grief that's still clinging to his bones feels appeased by this.

Then the suit powers up, and those thoughts are kicked out by the return of holy shit holy shit because Tony is never, ever going to get used to fucking flying.

And oh yeah, there's that kick he remember, the pressure of fuck knows how many Gs and if it isn't for Jarvis' calculations and his own reflexes he'd be splattered on the concrete, but then that ends and Tony is out, out and everything is pure dark night and there is nothing, nothing around him but sky. He's in the sky, he's flying, he's flying and he has never felt this free. There is just... nothing more. Just this, he could circle the world in this, no one could ever trap him again. He's just... free. It's incredible.

Jarvis, he can see by the display, is also having a blast. "Fun huh?" Tony manages.

"I have never computed in four dimensions sir." Jarvis pipes up happily.

Tony grins and drops, buzzing a funfair just because he can. Then-

Up.

"What's SR-71's record?"

"The altitude record for fixed wing flight is 85,000 feet, sir."

"Records are made to be broken."

"This is not a fixed wing aeroplane."

"Buzzkill."

He keeps on anyway. Aiming for the moon because that's the best target he has. How airtight is this suit? It should be pretty good. How much air can it hold? How far can he actually get to the moon before he has to turn back?

"Sir, there is a potentially fatal buildup of ice occurring."

Tony ignores him, the moon is huge in the display, if he gets much further he might leave atmosphere entirely and what's the ice going to do then? The stars are so close, he can almost touch them-

He knows this dream.

The heads-up goes dark, Tony can't even see the sky-ground-sky blur in the darkness, and Jarvis is silent. He's okay. He's back in his server on the ground. Where Tony will be in a few minutes, give or take. What's maximum velocity at this weight?

Tony screams, clawing at the ice.

Somehow, between that and entering the atmosphere at speeds that would make the space-shuttle want to have a lie down, the ice breaks away, and power comes back online. Tony pulls up just in time to kiss the tarmac and oh god yes, oh god he has to do that again. Without the ice this time. He is never going to have ice in his drinks again. At least not without having a sense of great superiority.

And the best part of the evening? When he tries to land he falls through two floors and completely trashes Obie's piano, which makes him feel really, really good for reasons he doesn't feel like examining.

It is totally, totally worth destroying a car, braining himself and getting iced up again by Dummy. It's five minutes before he gets the somewhat hysterical laughter under control. This is the best day ever.

 

* * *

 

It might be because he just ruined Obie's piano, or because he took on the laws of physics and won, or because he can motherfucking fly, but Tony feels like a fight. If Pepper were here they'd be having a row in minutes. But she's not, and he has to go looking.

Turning up to the gala sounds like the perfect fuck you to - well, everyone really. It's only a shame he can't wear the suit, but it's only half-painted and Tony wants to let that revelation wait until it's finally perfect. No point rushing things. Even if he wants to so badly something feels like it's bouncing around inside him. The suit would give the board something to think about. Or drool over. Yeah, the suit is definitely drool-over worthy. Even a bunch of brain-dead rhesus monkeys like the board could see that.

There's something rigid about Obie's smile when he sees him pull up, but which melts a few moments later into a more natural one. The hand on his back makes him flinch, but he's still flying high and Obie's not that close and he smells of scotch and whiskey more than anything else. It's good. It's good.

"Look at you." Obie looks him up and down, his hand skates down Tony's shoulder to his arm, and Tony feels something less than pleasant crawl down his spine.

"I'll see you inside." Tony tries to pull away, but the grip is just a little too tight. Tony's breath snatches at the back of his throat and the confidence melts like ice under a blowtorch. Oh god, not here, please not here in front of all the cameras please Obie-

"I was just going in myself." Obie leads him in and yeah, it's away from the press but half the board's in here and Tony can't can't have a meltdown in front of them. His back prickles with sweat. "Are you wearing a new scent?"

No. Oh shit, oh shit. "Yeah, new thing Pepper got me. You like it?" His plastic grin might not fool Obie but anyone watching them should be convinced. Nothing to see here. Please go the fuck away.

"Yeah, it's nice. Just stick with me tonight, I got the board right where we want them." He squeezes Tony's arm, it's probably meant to be reassuring. He lets go and throws an arm around Tony's waist, leading him through the crowd. He's way, way too close and Tony's assaulted by the hot possessive scent of Alpha and oh god please how can he get out of this he's going to be sick-

"Mr Stark?"

Oh thank you, thank you whoever the fuck you are. Some Alpha in a suit with a receding hairline and yeah that could describe most of the people here, and isn't it so utterly fucked that Tony would really want to go off with some random Alpha he's never met than Obie- "Yeah?"

"Agent Coulson from the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division. Listen, I know this must be a trying time for you, but we need to debrief you. There's still a lot of unanswered questions, and time can be a factor with these things."

"Yeah well-"

"Agent." Obie breaks in, he lets go of Tony oh thank you, and steps closer to Agent Whatever, he leans in. He's a few inches taller than the other Alpha, Tony sees his nostrils flare, his teeth flash when he talks. "You may not be aware, but Tony has been through a very rough time. He will be willing to answer questions-"

"Thank you-"

"-at a time he decides he's ready for them." He turns back at Tony, "And we both know you're not ready for that yet, Tony."

It's not a question. It's that weight, like the sudden grip of gravity on the suit, like the ice weighing him down. Obie focusing on him, all that weight of attention demanding do as I say-

Or else.

"I-" Tony has no idea what he's going to say, anything to break free.

"Oh hello Agent Coulson." And in comes the cavalry, sailing in on the wings of a blue suit. Pepper, oh thank god. "Is this about the-"

Agent turn to Pepper, looking almost as relieved as Tony feels. "Yes, we need to debrief Mr Stark."

Pepper picks up a notepad out of nowhere (no, seriously, there's no way that outfit has pockets) and a pen by some similar magic, and scribbles something down, tears out half a sheet and hands it to Agent. "24th at 7:00 p.m. at Stark Industries." She smiles. "Okay Tony?" She turns her back on Obie, just a bit, shutting him out.

Tony looks at him, feeling lost and more than a little cold. Coming out was a really dumb idea.

"Hey, whatever you say Tony." Obie holds both hands up. "If you feel ready."

"Yeah, fine, okay."

"Then that's settled," The notepad and pen disappear to whatever pocket dimension they originated from, and Pepper takes Tony's arm, "Now if you'll excuse me, I'd like a dance with Mr Stark."

Obie laughs; it sounds odd. "Make sure you save one for me."

The dance floor is crowded, but it's easier to breathe. Tony feels himself start to calm down.

"Sorry about that." Pepper murmurs, just loud enough for him to hear. "I couldn't think of any other way of getting you away from him."

"No, what?" Tony blinks, manages a smile, "You didn't want to dance with me?"

Pepper rolls her eyes, "Really, it's embarrassing."

"Did I forget to wear my pants again?" Tony looks down theatrically. Pepper smiles, shakes her head. "No really, I was fine."

"You didn't look fine."

"I was fine." Tony's not sure why he's even saying this. He doubts the people here have two functioning brains between them but he knows one of them definitely belongs to Pepper.

"You were not fine." Pepper pulls back to look at him, they miss a few steps of the dance. "Obadiah's been acting... strange around you, and it's been bothering me."

"Yeah, I've been gone for three months, who knew? Someone misses me-"

"You were uncomfortable, I could see that, everyone could see that-"

"Everyone? Really? Here?"

"Everyone who knows you. Obadiah knows you, he must have seen-"

"He's trying to keep an eye out for me, and yeah, maybe he's being a little protective, but it's nothing to freak out about-"

"You were the one hoping Shadowy Agent over there would pull you out of it, you weren't okay-"

"The board's already trying to shut me out, you think it'll get any better if they see me losing it in public-"

Pepper pauses, sighs, a lock of hair falls in front of her face. Tony's hand itches to push it back. "You want to get some air?"

Air, the idea of open sky is wonderful. "God yes."

Tony sees Obie trying to catch his eye from the bar and ignores him, ducking out onto the balcony. Thankfully, he doesn't follow.

"I don't like to way he acts around you." Pepper leans on the low wall, pushing her hair back impatiently and mussing the curls. "You were uncomfortable- don't deny it- and he just carried on as if it was nothing-"

"It was nothing-"

"You didn't like it, he should have stopped-"

Tony throws up his hands and regrets it when his sore shoulder twinges painfully. Is this some kind of Alpha/Nearly Alpha thing? He's back a whole two weeks without the drugs and already everyone is fighting over him? Okay, the idea of Pepper fighting for him is really kinda hot, but Obie-

Is not. In fact it makes Tony's skin crawl, and nausea rise. His arm aches from the ghost of that too-tight grip.

Shit. When did his life become one of those 'Ultimate Instinct' sitcoms?

It's an uncomfortable moment. Pepper pushes her hair back again. "Do you want a drink?" She says finally.

"I thought you were protecting me from the big bad Alphas?"

Pepper throws him a disgusted look and stalks off, "Make mine a vodka martini, no olives," he yells after her, hoping she doesn't notice that he's still not coming with her. Obie still inside and Tony's going to need to steady his nerves a bit before he can face that.

But then there's Christine. And the photographs. And that anger is better than any vodka.

 

* * *

 

He's so angry when he reaches Obie that he doesn't notice he's being led outside until they're both out. He's still seeing the photographs. That one, the small child with the legs that end just far enough below the knee not to be a clean break. The craters with just enough rust-red bleeding through the hillocks to show bodies. This can't be- He stopped, they stopped, he'd said- what did he need to do to make this stop?

There are no answers from Obie, a half-hidden smile. "Come on, picture time!" His arm slides around Tony's waist, pulls him in, too close, Tony stumbles and has to brace himself on Obie's chest to keep his balance. Obie's mouth brushes his ear- Too close, too fucking close. The cold fear is back in his belly and for once Tony fights it off, ignoring the flashes of the cameras. He's too angry. He gave his word, he gave his fucking word. Yinsen died, his family died and now his whole village is being blown to bits because Tony is a fucking failure.

Obie pulls him up so they're face-to-face, still too close. Obie's hands are still around Tony, trapping him. His voice, is heavy, low, commanding, it makes his spine ache to bend. "Tony. Tony look at you. You think you can run the company like this?" He starts to rub Tony's back. "Who do you think locked you out? I was the one who filed the injunction against you. It was that or the board would have had us both out."

Shock mixes with disbelief mixes with rage blends with the demand to run and now Tony has to restrain himself from clawing Obie's face off. He feels his mouth start to water with the animal instinct to sink his teeth into something. "What?" He manages.

"It was the only way I could protect you." Obie tilts Tony's face up, thumb brushing against his lips. Tony is about to just give into the urge to bite and fuck the cameras, when Obie kisses his forehead, very lightly. The cameras flash blindingly.

Obie pats his shoulder, smiles. "Get some rest."

He leaves Tony feeling sick and cold and shaking with rage.

 

* * *

 

He tells Jarvis to filter the news to only feature Gulmira, which he regrets fifteen seconds later when the narration cuts to a close up of Baldy. Those blank, bullet hole eyes make something inside Tony curl up and shudder.

He's been selling this guy weapons. He has been selling weapons to the man who killed Yinsen, who tried to kill him, who should be dead with a missile through his skull.

Tony wants to invent a huge big 'redo' button for the entire last two weeks.

"Sir?"

"Not now Jarvis." He can do this. He has to do this. No one else apparently gives a fuck and since he's the only one with the flying suit (and he's going to stay the only one with the flying suit, after Obie's little revelation, no one's getting the schematics)-

"Sir, some of the news pertains to you-"

"I don't care if my company tanked or my offices blew up or I'm a wanted felon right now Jarvis. It can fucking wait."

A pause. "Yes sir."

"Okay." Tony takes a deep breath. "Suit me up."

 

* * *

 

He lands right in front of Alpha Coats.

It's this very odd moment where they just stare at each other and Tony's mind sort of goes blank.

He's still so angry it's burnt out to a low level sort of ice, crystal clear and almost completely numb. He thinks he ought to be saying something, some catch phrase, or taunt, or joke. But his jaw seems to have locked down tight so hard his teeth ache.

Then Coats opens fire, and Tony punches him over a three-story building, then leaves him for the locals to finish off. He blasts several of the Ten Rings through walls, takes out those with hostages with shoulder-mounted missiles.

It feels obscenely good.

Then there's another outpost, then another. They throw everything they have at him, and he just keeps getting up. He's so angry he doesn't even feel the bullets, or the shells. They could land a Jericho on him (and fuck, how had they gotten the missiles? Obie must have sold the prototypes after he'd ordered them destroyed) and he wouldn't care.

Yeah. Burn, you bastards.

Tony blazes with fire and ice, satisfaction and cold, cold rage. He wants to find Baldy; he wants to see that look on the bastard's face when he sees Tony. And maybe then Tony might be able to speak then, tell him that he killed Yinsen and tried to kill Tony and he thought they were just things he could use and kill but now he's going to die. It's not going to be some honourable Alpha duel, he's going to die because Tony - Omega Tony, Tony on his own without backup - is going to stand in front of him and kill him like he did Yinsen and he is going to die and he is not going to have a fucking chance.

He is going to burn. Tony will see him burn because Tony is not weak anymore, is not helpless. He's something invincible and inhuman, a man no longer made of flesh and blood. He will end this.

The phone rings.

It takes Tony a moment to even realise what the noise is, lost in the roar of flight and the pounding of blood in his ears. It's so stupidly normal it feels like it's coming from another planet.

It's like he was drowning again, drowning without knowing it and suddenly brought up gasping. The cold melts, leaving him empty and confused, the images of the last -hours? Days?- flashing in his mind. Blood and fire and sand and Ten Rings running and screaming as he gunned them down.

And the people. Yinsen's people. The people he didn't even fucking see because he was so angry everything had gone tunnel vision. The people staring at him, watching, awed and amazed as he saved their lives without even thinking.

Tony can only hear his own breaths for a few moments, he swallows.

"Hello?"

"Tony?"

The connection is shit. He'll have to upgrade that. The thought is so banal it's wonderful.

"Who's this?"

"It's Rhodes."

Oh shit, how long has he been gone? He does a quick check for time. He's been gone for thirteen hours twenty-two, according to the readout. Usual workshop time. He's got a few missed calls from Pepper, but that's normal, no one should be suspicious.

"What? Tony where are you?"

"Out."

"Whatever, I need your help right now."

"It's funny how that works, huh?"

"Yeah. Speaking of funny, we've got a weapons depot that was just blown up a few clicks from where you were being held captive. Sounds like someone stepped in and did your job for you, huh?"

Ah. There's... not really anything Tony can say to that. It's not a rare feeling with Rhodey. Or anyone he calls his friends, really. It feels great. It feels normal.

"Look, are you okay?"

"Yep, fine, never better."

"And this isn't some backlash against the news, you trying to prove how big you are by blowing something up?"

The sentence doesn't make sense, all the words are in the right place but Tony can't put them together in a way that relates to him. "What news?"

"What- Tony, where have you been-" The call breaks off, crackles static and voices in the background.

"Busy."

"Right. And you're sure you don't have any tech in that area I should know about?"

"No, what are you talking about-"

"- 'cause I'm staring at one right now, and it's about to be blown to kingdom come."

Ah crap.

The worst part is that aside from the imminent threat of death, Tony suspects this would be really a lot of fun. He needs to get Rhodey and his plane in the air sometime to play tag. If he survives this. And getting blown up by his own tech is a lot less humiliating than being blown up by Lockheed Martin’s.

"Tony." Rhodey sounds way too understanding. "I get that you've had a bad time-"

"Rhodey-"

"And you're trying to take it out on people who deserve it rather than the press-"

"Rhodey, please-"

"Shit, there's been plenty of times I've wanted to fly a drone into Fox News-"

"You gotta listen-"

"But this is a warzone and you can't send civilian equipment here-"

"This is not a piece of equipment. I'm in it. It's a suit. It's me!"

Everything gets very confused and there's a lot of shouting from the other end of the phone, the plane he's hanging to spins, everything blurs then something hits Tony in the stomach so hard he can't breathe and may or may not have actually been sick inside his helmet. The repulsors come up just in time to fly upright, everything is a blurry mess. He needs to get out now.

Then he sees the smoke trailing from one of the planes.

Oh shit, oh shit. He can see the pilot but no chute. The other plane is coming around and he's a very bright red target in the middle of a very blue sky-

Still no chute.

The other plane is getting close, if Tony hangs around any longer-

The man is still falling. Tony locks on the target, closes his eyes, and drops like a stone. He can hear the crackle of the phone, his breath heavy in his ears. The ping that tells him he's been locked on to.

Come on.

He reaches out, the pilot looks up, eyes wild and terrified. He's got at best a few seconds to live, and he's scared of Tony.

Enough. No more fucking deaths, no more stupid, good people dying for idiot reasons. It stops here.

He pulls the catch, it holds, jars, and snaps, Tony has to blast away to avoid getting tangled in the chute. He shoots off the moment he's clear. The other plane gives half-hearted chase, then pulls off.

"Oh, my God, you crazy bitch. You owe me a plane. You know that, right?"

 

* * *

 

 

The suit is so dented it barely makes the flight back to the US in one piece. Tony's not convinced he didn't leave a trail of metal bits across the Atlantic. When he finally lands in the workshop, it takes Dummy, Butterfingers, You and two fabrication units under command of Jarvis to pry him out.

Then, because clearly the universe wants to humiliate Tony some more, Pepper comes in holding a newspaper.

"Let's face it. This is not the worst thing you've caught me doing."

"Are those bullet holes?"

"Ah, maybe?" Honestly, it hadn't really registered. It's all a blur of mangled metal. "That one was definitely a tank shell, and the damage on the waist is a F-22's wing."

Pepper just looks at him. Tony tries to smile. "This-" She stops, takes a deep breath and for a horrific moment Tony thinks she might be about to cry. Then the moment is gone and Professional Pepper is back. "Please tell me Vanity Fair is still standing. Please tell me you didn't just wage war on the US press-"

"You know, you're the second person who's accused me of trashing the press, first you and now Rhodey-"

"- because I just got out of more meetings than I can count doing damage control on it and I don't need this Tony-"

"-I mean, what did I do? Have I been eating orphans or setting kittens on fire lately-"

"- the stock drop for the weapons thing was bad but we didn't need this-" Pepper stops talking. It's so sudden that Tony stops too. Dummy finally manages to pry off the waist plate that's caved against his abdomen and Tony is finally free, the rest of the armor falls in pieces around him.

"What are you talking about?" He walks up to her.

"You don't know." It's not a question. Pepper presses the paper into his hand.

Tony looks down. It's not The Wall Street Journal or any other paper that usually heralds bad news, it's Vanity Fair magazine, with Christine's name plastered all over it. And a photo of Tony, the photo from that hellish party - last night? Fuck, it was last night - with Obie kissing his forehead.

Tony Stark, Secret Omega screams the headline.

It feels like something has just gone off in Tony's stomach, some weird, far off but incredibly violent explosion, and for a moment he just stands very still to see what the effect is going to be.

Then he starts laughing.

He freaks out Pepper, Jarvis, Dummy, the bots, everyone. He drops to the floor and throws his head back and laughs. He laughs because he was expecting something horrendous like Obie managing to kick him out or that he's going to be arrested for Gulmira or something, he laughs because his armor's in pieces and he took on the Ten Rings and the US Air Force and won. He laughs because he managed to save that man. He laughs because he's still alive. He laughs because he won't have to be scared of being found out any more. Because he's just so fucking relieved.

He laughs longer and harder than he's ever laughed in his life, and when it's over he's shaking and wheezing and his chest is aching around the arc reactor and there are tears in his eyes. Pepper is kneeling next to him, pale, trying to stay close but still remain a safe distance away at the same time.

Tony manages to swallow his chuckles. "Dummy, I need a drink. No, not the shakes. A real drink, scotch, or vodka-" to Pepper. "You like vodka right? Right. Two vodkas. Hell, bring the bottle."

"Tony!" Pepper's voice is sharp.

Every breath Tony takes is still shaking with amusement, it feels great. "Yeah Pep?"

She pauses, hands held up as though wondering how the hell to frame this. "I've been running meetings all day trying to keep this under wraps. The board are jumping on this to push you out and this article is already in print. Someone must have planted those Destrogestrel pills in your garbage-"

"Pepper-"

"We need to run cover on this, Christine's already suing you for procurement under false pretences. I'm going to have to bring you in for the meeting, not having you here today was impossible. They took your absence as proof-"

"Pepper!" She finally stops. Tony props himself on his elbows. "Let them run the article."

"What? Tony, have you read what they're saying-"

"It's true."

For once, Pepper is speechless.

"I mean, about the Omega part. If they're saying I have five kids and a bondmate sworn to secrecy that's all rubbish-"

"Tony."

"Yeah?"

She doesn't say anything, just looks at him. Then, because she's Pepper and he owes her this: "I stopped taking the pills when I came back. It was going to happen."

"You were on Destrogestrel." Her voice is flat. "You were on Destrogestrel and I didn't know."

"No one knew, Pep-"

"You could have died. And no one would have known. You could have died."

"I'm not dead."

"You could- why Tony? Was this some kind of ego thing? Was it just easier like that?"

"I-" The words die on his lips. There are no words. They choke him.

He doesn't need them. Pepper looks at him and her face softens. "Oh Tony." She shifts to sit next to him. She shakes her head and puts her hand on his shoulder.

For a moment, there's nothing but the sound of the bots gathering the parts of the armor and hammering it back into shape.

"Do I want to know?"

"Probably not."

The moment stretches; it could go on forever.

"I think Obadiah knows," Pepper says, finally. "Knew, before the article."

Tony shakes his head, "How would he know that? I'm pretty good at hiding it."

"It's the way he's been treating you, he was never like that to you before. That close. He's treating you like you're his Omega."

It was the only way I could protect you.

"How would he know?" Tony repeats, but even to his own ears, he doesn't sound too sure.

"Maybe he smelt you."

"Rhodey didn't. You didn't."

"Obadiah's known you longer than anyone."

Another pause. Then Pepper sighs and turns, her hand snags Tony's shoulder and the next moment he's in her arms, head on her collarbone. He can smell her hair, warm and crisp, and her arms come up around him.

She bends down and nuzzles the crook of his neck. "I reek." Tony half-hearted protests and immediately feels like an idiot.

"I don't know how I didn't notice."

"I'm good at hiding. Had a lot of practise."

"How long have you been- god, since you were what? Sixteen?"

"Seventeen-"

"Seventeen." Pepper closes her eyes, shakes her head and sits back. Sighs. "We're going to have to find some way to spin this for the press. You can't have been hiding this long for no reason-"

"It wasn't-" Tony gives up, Pepper's on a roll.

"Maybe we run it that you were afraid you'd been cut out of Stark Industries if it came out. The board are dinosaurs, I can dig up some clips from them being anti-Omega rights, and Obadiah can be pretty backwards-"

"He's the one trying to cut me out."

"Good." At Tony's look, she backtracks. "No, sorry, but it'll look good. He's been acting creepy around you, and with that kiss on Vanity Fair we can make it look as though he's trying to court you to get control of the company."

The though off being cast as the helpless Omega in these machinations make Tony's gorge rise. Pepper sighs again.

"Tony, I don't know. I'm trying to make this make sense and if I don't have something to tell our PR people you are going to lose the company."

Tony shakes his head, "I don't care."

Pepper stares. "Tony-"

"He's selling weapons to them. Obadiah. The Ten Rings. The people who captured me. He's selling weapons to them. I don't-" He breaks off, takes a breath. "I have to stop him. That's more important than anything, me, the company, anything. I've got to- He's got to be stopped."

"By you."

"Yes."

"With this?"

Pepper looks at him, the silence stretches.

"What do you want me to do?" She says finally.

It's like he can breathe, finally. Because finally, after Yinsen's death and Obie's betrayal and Rhodey turning his back on him, he's finally got someone on his side.

 

* * *

 

"The price to kill Tony Stark has just gone up."

The air stings Pepper's lungs. The cold a sudden counterpart of the shock. She is ice, she reminds herself. As she does before the hard board meetings, as she does when Tony's at his most impossible, as she had so often clawing against the glass ceiling of a place that didn't want her because she was missing a few chromosomes. She is ice, she feels nothing. She can thaw and freak out when she's out of here.

"So, what are we going to do about this?"

She is ice. She is ice. She has frost in her veins. She sees Stane and she feels nothing, her face doesn't change because it's cut from ice. There's nothing to read in the snow.

"I know what you're going through, Pepper." He's smiling. That kind smile. He'd always been such a kind man. The kind of protective papa-bear Alpha type. She'd always thought so. Until she saw him leaning over Tony, too close, too intimate, and Tony- Tony, looking as though he was about to scream.

She'd known then. But not like this.

I am ice. She reminds herself. If she doesn't stay ice, something horrible will happen. Even the wrong thought could shatter her.

Stane pours a glass of scotch, swirls and drinks. Pepper stares at him, impassive and empty.

"I know, because we're going through the same thing, aren't we? Tony."

Pepper stays very still. She's surprised her breath doesn't frost the air.

"Such as sweet boy. I don't know why he hid for so long. Still, I suppose it explains a few things."

Her muscles are glaciers, her bones have frosted over.

"And after he came home - well, Tony never really did come home, did he? It makes me ill to think what they must have done to him in that cave. They're not kind to his sort, in that part of the world."

The words drop something hot and sick into Pepper's stomach, it cracks and melts the ice. She crushes it down, tries to flash-freeze it over.

"Breaks my heart, to see him carrying on like this, trying to pretend he's okay."

"Maybe he is." She forces the words out of frostbitten lips.

Stane chuckles, shakes his head. "Pepper, Pepper. You know him better than that. You saw him at the party the other night. He was scared. Tony Stark, scared at a party." He takes a drink. "The board wasn't happy, I can tell you. They were wondering what the hell was wrong with him. Well, we found out, didn't we?"

There is no answer to that that wouldn't crack her teeth.

"What the board want- and I agree with them - is to have someone take care of him."

There's a horrible moment of oh god the board is in on this too that shoots hot blood through Pepper, before she understands and manages to wrestles it back under control.

"He's done all right so far." The download is almost finished.

Stane snorts. "He was killing himself on Destrogestrel, trying to be a Beta."

Stane walks forwards, leans over the desk, hands flat. Pepper can't tear her eyes from his knuckles, overlarge knots of bones in hands still so very strong, despite his age. He leans in until they're eye to eye, barely inches apart. If Stane looked down, he would see the download. His eyes are fixed on Pepper's and she can't help but meet them.

"I want to help him, Pepper." His voice is low, growling. It's sandpaper on Pepper's bones, the gaze a blowtorch against her skin. "I want to help him, but he's scared. I need you to bring him round. He wants to trust me, but whatever those animals did to him have messed with his head. I want to look after him, but I'll need your help."

The Beta in her tells her to back down, to run and disappear from the Alpha bearing down on her. The Alpha in her tells her to leap from the chair and claw Stane's face off. Pepper swallows both, a sick feeling melting her from the inside out. "Well, if you're right, the last thing he needs is any Alpha getting too close. Give him his space, he'll be okay."

The download's finished. Pepper pulls out the drive from under the newspaper, picks up both and, with a surge of not-entirely-Beta fire, breaks eye contact and gets up.

"Do you think he's getting better?" Stane's voice comes after her as she steps away. "You've been with him this whole time. Do you think he's getting better?"

Pepper stops, for a moment, her mind drags up pictures of the metal armor she found Tony locked in, the days spent locked in the workshop. The barely restrained - determination? Fanaticism? Madness? - in his eyes.

"Do you think he'll get better, if we don't do something?" Stane walks towards her until he's standing in front of her again. Point blank range for brute Alpha force. Pepper is close, but she doesn't have the presence and strength to match that. "He's not made for this. He might have gotten this far with drugs, but how long do you think an Omega like him will last against the board? He's already lost the company - or he will. If we don't do something, we'll lose him too."

"That's up to Tony." The drive is burning a hole in her hand.

Stane chuckles. "We'd die out if we let Omegas get their way all the time."

She doesn't answer.

"He's brilliant, of course, but he's wilful, and he has no idea how to look after himself." He takes a step closer, so close, so much taller than Pepper, so much broader in the shoulders.

It's an old Alpha trick, and if Pepper let herself fall for it she'd never gotten above tea girl. She meets his gaze steadily, eyes clear as ice.

"I'll take care of him, Pepper." The same, low voice, it burns her to the bone. "I promise."

Pepper nods. She turns to leave.

"Is that today's paper?"

"Yes."

"Do you mind?"

"Not at all."

Her fingers burn where they brush Stane's hand.

Pepper barely has time to catch her breath before Stane's out of the office after her. He knows, oh he knows. His eyes bore into the back of her neck. She grabs Agent Coulson and drags him out of the door before she can't hold in together anymore and shatters into pieces in the car.

Agent Coulson takes one look at her hunched over and gasping for air, and takes the wheel.

It takes her fifteen minutes to get her composure back.

It takes them another twenty to reach Agent Coulson's office.

Ten more before they close the door behind them in an office that's not much more than a closet.

It only takes Pepper five to explain, because Coulson's a good listener and doesn't ask stupid questions like 'are you sure' or 'how is that possible'.

And, after ten minutes of Coulson making phone calls, organising an arrest before Stane has a chance to skip the country, it's only then, an hour after her talk with Stane, that it occurs to Pepper to call Tony.

There's no answer.

 

* * *

 

"Shh. Shh. Breathe. I got you." The hand on the side of his neck is gentle. The words a warm burr. Obie eases him back against the couch. He doesn't remove his hand at once. He pauses, slides in until the v of his hand is pressing against Tony's throat. He rests it there, just heavy enough to make Tony's struggles for air that little bit more difficult, thumb rubbing up and down against his jugular, feeling the pulse.

"Easy, easy. Just breathe, that's it." He pushes Tony's hand down from where it's trapped, spasming in blind cramping pain, against his chest, and slides in to sit next to him. The proximity would be uncomfortable if Tony wasn't already screaming inside his head, eyes burning where he can't even blink, chest locked down so tight he can't draw but the shallowest panting breaths.

"You remember this one, right?" Obie's hand move to his chin, and turns Tony's head until he's looking at the device, the tool, the weapon he built.

It was supposed to help with riots.

Tony tries to make a noise, shout for Jarvis, something. He manages a rattling gasp.

Obie rubs his thumb along Tony's jaw, rough against his beard. He's smiling. His face is kind. His eyes are bullet holes. "Oh Tony. You never make things easy."

The tinny screaming ends, and Tony struggles to breathe. Obie pulls out the nullifiers, and puts an arm around Tony's shoulders, pulling him in close, intimate. His body is hot against Tony's, thigh pressing against his. The smell of Alpha is a shot of adrenaline and Tony's muscles clench and spasm uselessly in the demand to run, lungs straining against his ribcage for air.

"When Raza told me what you were, I didn't believe it, I didn't think anyone could hide so well. But you've always been so clever, Tony." He drums fingers against his collarbone. Tony's so focused on breathing that the words don't register at first.

"And I thought; what a waste. All this time I spent ordering the hit on you, to get you out of the way, when the answer was just there, in front of me."

The world shifts on its axis, revolves the wrong way for a split-second. Everything he is fights against it, this can't be true it can't it can't it-

He gags on his own spit, his lungs crackle in a scream that can't escape.

"All this time, I was worried I was killing the golden goose, when you were right there, for me to have. All this time I could have owned you." The grip on his jaw tightens, then relaxes before Obie- Obadiah- Stane grabs the scruff of his neck, nails digging in like a parody of a bonding bite. "Owned a pretty little thing like you." His breath is hot on the side of Tony's face.

He's too close, Tony's muscles fight to run but they barely tremble. He can taste bile and oh god if he's sick he going to drown because he's frozen like this and oh god oh god please no help Pepper Jarvis anyone-

Then he gets up, and Tony is left shaking on the couch, freezing cold and sick and stripped to the bone. And he picks up something- something that was by the couch, something that- something that-

"You can thank Pepper for this." Stane leans over, shaking his head. "If she wasn't running around pretending to be the overprotective Alpha, sticking her nose where it doesn't belong, I wouldn't be having to do this. But-" He shrugs, and the clips the device on the arc reactor, it fastens with a click Tony can feel in his jaw, his spine, every inch of his bones.

"Such a shame, it looked like fate, that you survived." His free hand comes up to grab Tony's face, thumb pressing against his lips. "It seemed like the perfect chance." The device pulls, it's a moment of horrible weightless suspension and a wet sucking noise and it's out. His chest is too light, empty, his heart beating against his ribs like a trapped bird. He can see the wires, still connected, still keeping him alive. No please no please no don't stop put it back put it back put it back

"And it really was perfect. The press could see you running scared, the board thought you couldn't cope. And when I tipped off that reporter as to what you were, well, it was a matter of time before they pushed you into the care of a responsible Alpha." The reactor's light catches Stane's face, and he smiling. It's that smile. Tony knows that smile. It's the 'hey Tony I got pizza smile', the 'nice going blowing off the press, hotshot' smile. He's seen that smile a thousand times. Ever since he was so very young. Since Stane made friends with his father.

The realisation drops like a stone in Tony's stomach and sits there.

Stane had been friends with Howard Stark.

Stane had been friends with Howard Stark.

"Oh, I had it all planned out. Some time away, far away. Odd hours, change of time zones, enough so even your clever brain-" He taps the side of Tony's skull "- gets to lose track of time. And when you'd go into Heat, I'd be there. Bonding and breeding a sweet thing like you-" He leans in, inhales, smiles.

How could Tony have been this stupid?

"But Pepper, well, she had to get involved. Getting close to you. I can smell her all over you." His nostrils flare. "You probably enjoyed being fucked by that sterile freak, you little slut." He lifts his arm- no please no please don't please no NO-

His heart stops for the second the connections break, his breath catches and for a moment he's out of time, trapped in a moment of such blinding pain it freezes his blood and cracks every bone.

Then he breathes and his scream is a stifled, stuttered syllable lost behind his teeth. Tony chokes, stares in the horrible sudden silence as the electromagnet stops. His heart is starting to hammer, a slowly spiking pain in what's left of his torn-out chest. Oh god, oh god why didn't he see this? Why didn't he run? Why didn't he see that everything, everything Howard Stark had touched, made, considered good, was fucking poison? Why hadn't he given Stane the damn company, let them fuck each other over, and run when he still could?

Stane stares at him, watching Tony struggle as each breath stutters, each marginally harder than the last. He looks at him, up and down, and shakes his head. "Such a shame."

Then he leans in and kisses Tony, lips cracked and rough, tongue pushing against Tony's teeth. He works one finger into the hinge of Tony's jaw and forces him to open his mouth. The acrid taste of tobacco burns his tongue, fills his mouth and makes him gag. His tongue is thick, revolting, rough as sandpaper.

"Such a shame." He murmurs again. Tony manages a ragged cough, his mouth tastes of hot metal. "But I'll make sure you're never forgotten." His fingers are black streaks against the arc reactor. They blur and fade in an out of focus. The world under Tony's body is starting to tilt. "A masterpiece."

He can't breathe, his hand tingle, going numb, the world is going dark around the edges and Tony just wants to close his eyes and give in, black out and never wake up. Anything as long as it stops, as long as it ends, somehow.

"This is your legacy."

His heart is starting to hurt. Isn't this enough? Can't this be the end? What more does he have to do when he can't even move. Better to let it go and end it, now, before things can somehow get worse.

"A new generation of weapons."

He should fight, he has to fight- but even Yinsen gave up at this point, didn't he? Gave up and died under Tony's hands because he was hurting, dying and that was the end. This is Tony's. I'm sorry. I'm sorry but what can I do?

"I wish you could've seen my prototype."

Tony feels his eyes drift closed, hears Stane snap open his case. Snap closed. The glow of the arc reactor vanishes behind his eyelids.

"One last bit of work to do, Pepper's probably told that agency everything." He smiles, "That's one loose end I'm looking forward to finishing off."

Pepper.

Tony's eyes open again.

Stane is standing, looking at him, case in hand. He shakes his head. "I'd have preferred that you live." He runs one finger down Tony's face, very light. "So beautiful. Such a shame." He's still smiling.

He's still smiling when he leaves.

 

* * *

 

Tony falls off the couch.

It's taken him five minutes and it's the most amazing thing he's ever done.

He half-crawls, half rolls towards the elevator and the doors don't open. Jarvis has been compromised - he's been compromised because Tony gave Stane the codes oh god fuck no why didn't he see this why-

His fingers aren't working, he smashes the manual button with his knuckles and collapses, curling into a ball. His chest hurts it hurts like- it hurts like-

Like there are a thousand shards of metal creeping in his veins, pricking and shredding and moving oh so slowly towards his heart. It's what it feels like, it couldn't feel like anything else.

The elevator door opens with a ping.

He has to punch the buttons three unbearable times before it drops him to the basement. A minute of hissing silence broken by his own gasps and he can hear his own flesh creak in his chest-

He can walk, he can-

He falls at the doors. Almost retches at the pain. Everything goes white and black spots.

He can move, he has to- not far - the desk-

Oh god it hurts.

The concrete is rough, it scours his fingers raw and he can't even feel it. As though he's swallowed a blooming ball of ice inside his chest. Putting out tendrils of cold- so cold his fingers are numb, he can't feel his legs-

He claws his way along a car wheel, scrabbles until he can prop himself on a box. He can see the arc reactor- that stupid, broken piece of crap he made with Yinsen's hands, on that ridiculous stand-

He falls.

The edge of the box jars the edge of the reactor casing and the world blanks out completely. He can't- he can't see. He can't hear anything but his own ragged heartbeat counting down, everything is a ball of expanding pain so deep it drowns out everything.

He has to move, he has to move. If he stays here any long he won't be able to.

The floor is cold. He's sweating so hard his shirt is soaked through and it's soothing on his skin. His muscles are trembling with pain, moving them is like tried to hold water.

The world swings in and out of focus, starting to fade. He blinks against the blur of light- too bright- what is-

The arc reactor.

Tony picks it up with fingers so numb it feels like he's wearing gloves. Looks up.

Dummy's camera looks back down. Is this okay? Is this good?

Tony chokes, swallows with a blinding flash of pain. "Good boy."

He manages to smash the case, fumbles in the shards of glass and pick up the reactor with bloody hands. Dummy drops his arm for Tony to brace against, to steady him. His fingers slip, red smears on the glass, almost drops it twice. He tries to slot it in, but it's wrong and Tony feels the scream build again in frustration, bites it back, manages to adjust his grip with Dummy's help and tries again.

It goes in.

There's a wet metal slick click and a slow, creeping hum, low at first, then building before stabilising. The pain- the horrible, blinding pain - is slowly, slowly fading into the bone deep exhausted ache of bruises and damaged muscles. Things that heal. Tony chokes again, his chest shudders in something that half sobbing and half hysterical laughter.

Dummy settles next to him with a hiss of pneumatics. Tony tries to move, and can't. He has never felt this tired. Dummy's claw brushes his hair, then jerks back up when Butterfinger and You creep forwards. When they come too close Dummy hisses and waves his claw at them, even taking a swipe at You.

Tony ought to say something. Ought to scold them for fighting. He can't, he can't even move. He closes his eyes, everything focused on the next breath, the next even, mercifully easy breath, and his heartbeat calming, quietening in his ears.

Most hissing, the clink of metal, the bots settling something between them. Dummy resting back into his crouch, camera hovering over Tony.

"-fvjnin - esdlkad - DNJUN-"

The garbled noise makes Tony open his eyes. "Jarvis?" His voice is a low croak, but it's better than he expected. The floor is freezing and he's starting to feel very cold.

"-rebooting in safe mode- Sir?"

"Nngh." Tony tries to sit up, fails. He collapses and rolls over, nearly bashing his head on Dummy's chassis.

"Tony!"

What- who - Rhodey. His hands grab at Tony, large and warm and oh god he's so warm and Tony just wants to bury his face in his chest and not move for a year and-

Pepper.

 

* * *

 

"Sir, this is a horrible idea."

Jarvis might not have been online but his cameras had still been recording and Tony's already been subject to his AI's own personal brand of crazed panic. Rhodey's was bad enough, thank you.

"Jarvis." Pitched low so Rhodey can't hear. "If you don't get me in the suit right now I am putting it on myself." If he doesn't get several inches of steel between him and the world right now, he going to start screaming and never stop.

Inside, he pulls the visor down as soon as he can, and feels himself start shaking the moment the monitors fire up. He's safe. He's safe. He's in the best damn tech he can build and he's got rockets and repulsors and he can fly and he is not, is not, is not going to throw up inside his own helmet.

It's a near thing.

"Keep the skies clear."

He goes through the roof, and obliterates the sitting room and the couch above.

For a few seconds, he closes his eyes and lets Jarvis fly. Just a few seconds, just enough to catch his breath. His jaw is trembling and is starting to ache where Obadiah- don't.

He calls Pepper instead.

"Pepper!"

"Tony! Tony, are you okay?" And fuck, just hearing her- scared but okay, unknots something Tony didn't know was still tangled up inside him. She's okay. For now, she's okay.

"I'm fine. How are..."

"Obadiah, he's gone insane!" Tony closes his eyes again, briefly, please, please don't talk about this.

But how is he supposed to stop Stane, if he can't even think about him without wanting to crawl out of his own skin?

"I know. You'd better get out of there."

"He built a suit."

The arc reactor- he'd wanted it for- Shit. Tony needs to be thinking. He can't just fly into this with his clapped-out reactor and expect to just win, this isn't Gulmira, this is-

The monitors lock on to something, something huge, several times the size of his suit. The sort of oversized nightmare garbage an Alpha with pack issues might dream up.

Tony hits the suit- the suit, it's much easier to this of it as that. Just a hunk of dumb metal- The impact jars his shoulder numb and throws them both into uncertain space where everything is light and flying iron and no gravity.

Tony picks himself up. "Divert power to chest RT." The blast throws Sta- the suit back ten feet. Tony manages to catch the car it was trying to crush him with. No seriously, he's going up against Audi now? - He swallows down crazed laughter- not now. If he starts, he won't stop.

He gets dragged off, and yeah, Audi maybe wins that round. Then he gets hit by a motorbike and if Sta- the suit think of it as the suit- will just keep on hitting him with Audis and Mitsubishis-

He's picked up, the rough melded metal of the fingers clench, Tony's armor holds, just.

"Tony, Tony. You think you can win?"

The voice saps the strength from Tony's body, like someone's poured cold water over him, leaving him sick, freezing, shaking.

"It's too late, you really think you can fight me?"

The voice module makes his voice even deeper, reverberating through the concrete, but it's Stane, it's Obadiah.

He's laughing

His foot comes down on Tony, ten tons of iron and hammered steel. Brute strength and every weapon Tony ever made.

"Give up Tony, I didn't want you to die. You can still live. Give up."

He's picked up, and thrown through a bus, Tony's neck clicks with whiplash and the impact jars everything white.

"The company's mine. Like you should have been. I won't let you stand in my way."

The missile's Starktech Talon class. Obadiah doesn't miss.

Tony catches himself before he hits the ground, hovering in mid-air, because besides a few nicks and dents, the suit is fine. Obadiah might be Alpha, and he might be armed to the teeth and scaring Tony out of his wits and be wearing an armor five times the size of his, but the only thing he's got that Tony's made in the last year is the arc reactor, otherwise there's nothing but what his technicians have been able to cobble together from Tony's rough drafts, and obsolete weapon tech like the Talon.

The only thing that can get through Starktech, is Starktech.

In the air, Tony can breathe. In the air, Stane doesn't look so terrifying.

Then he takes off as well.  
And- and suddenly, Tony is so furious he can't even think. Every sick, frightened feeling that has him running like a sheep chased by wolves suddenly turns around and Tony is angrier than he's ever been in his life. More than during his escape, more than Gulmira. His mouth waters and his teeth ache to bite and he wants to tear Obadiah limb from limb. For this, for everything, for stealing his tech, trying to kill him, trying to kill Pepper, killing Yinsen and not even knowing he's done it because people are so far under Stane 's notice, for trying to drive him insane, for leaving him to die, for proving himself to be Howard Stark in another skin.  
For daring to fly, for going into the sky, a place that is Tony's and Tony's alone.  
Right you sick fucking bastard, you're on my turf now

Jarvis' voice shakes, he doesn't know what to do. Tony closes his eyes, takes a breath as they fly higher. He's sorry for dragging him into this, for dragging all of them into this. Jarvis is eight years old, if he was human he'd be in elementary school. Tony's forcing him into a fight to the death. He thinks of Dummy, having to take care of him through the Howard fallout, of You and Butterfingers, who watched him nearly die in front of them.

I'm sorry, guys, I'll make it up to you, promise.

Obadiah grabs his leg. The fingers snap shut like a steel trap.

There no need for evolution to tell him he can't break this grip.

Stane claws his way up until they're face-to-face. The blows buckle the suit plates, but they hold. And it's worth the damage to see frost crust over the iron, and the lights in the helmet go out.

Tony wonders if Stane ever had this dream either.

To think I thought you worth a star.

 

* * *

 

Tony doesn't land so much as crash. Everything's a bit off kilter and the power is dropping too fast. "I got to get out of this thing." He yanks off a glove. Swallows, catches his breath. The rage is burning out and he's back to feeling sick and cold again, shivering.

There's a thump behind him.

Tony knows, in the split second he has before he turns around and sees what is behind him, that he will never stop having nightmares of this, he is going to be looking over his shoulder at Obadiah Stane for the rest of his life. The fear claws up his throat, lodges in his trachea.

He dodges the first blow, but he's holding up the suit through raw strength and he's fast running out of that too. The second blow hits.

He charges back anyway, gets energy from somewhere- from himself or the reactor, it's the same thing. The blow jars against the suit's helmet and Stane catches him around the waist.

Oh fuck.

Stane's suit is a battered wreck, but it's still on full power and without the output to lock Tony's plates into place, they're slowly bending under sheer brute force.

One of them slips, and cuts into Tony's hip. They're pressed in so tight he can't breathe.

"Come on Tony. Give up."

"Weapon status-" He gasps through gritted teeth.

"Repulsors offline, missiles offline."

"That's it. Don't fight. Shh-"

"Flares!"

There's barely enough power in the suit to get away, Tony feels the weight drag on his shoulders, his back. There so much smoke on the roof that Stane can't see him, but it won't last.

He can't win this. He can't run, he can't hide.

But unlike Stane, he's also not alone.

 

* * *

 

Pepper's hands should be shaking as she sets up the arc reactor. They don't. They're quite steady. Pepper has never, never been so happy she not made the transition to full Alpha, because if she had, she'd be a screaming wreck right now, listening to the fight above her and unable to stop it.

Stop, you're ice, not flesh and blood, you don't care, you just act

There's another crash, and the glass above her shattercracks, the first shards falling. Tony- he's down, he's lying on the glass roof and not getting up and Pepper- Pepper isn't Beta enough to stay calm for this. She bites her lip until she tastes blood- cold, cold feel nothing, ice- and pulls down the next switch.

Ice, nothing but ice, nothing- oh please Tony get out of there-

He stands, a black shadow on the glass, but doesn't move.

"Tony move!" Her voice is too high even in her own ears, panicked.

The rising roar of the reactor is drowned out by gunshots, smashing and pinging into the glass. Pepper's hand hovers over the last switch. Get out of there, she doesn't dare say it aloud.

"You finally outdid yourself Tony." She can hear Stane's voice weakly through the cracked glass. "You made your father proud."

The glass shatters with a scream. It takes Pepper a moment to realise it's hers. There's glass in her hair, gashing her hands. And Tony- oh no please- he's barely hanging on- She needs to do something-

Ice, you are ice

I can't-

She can hear Tony's voice, doubled, in her phone and above her, gasping for breath. He's laughing. He's laughing and it's the most horrible, miserable laugh she's ever heard. "This is all he ever wanted for me."

There's a boom of a rocket going off and Tony slips, clawing for purchase.

She has to act, she needs- a weapon a gun- anything would do. She swallows down saliva, a hot and angry bloom spreading in her stomach, instinct of a hundred thousand years of evolution telling her to find a big rock and beat out Stane's brains with it. Protect her Omega.

Pepper always knew she was more Alpha than Beta.

She needs- she needs to do something, she can't just stand here but there's nothing she can do, there are no weapons that would even scratch Stane's monstrosity, her breath comes in short pants and her nails dig bloody circles in her palms.

"Pepper!"

This is Tony, her Tony. She can't- there has to be-

"You'll die." She barely recognises her own voice. Cracking, desperate. You're mine, you always were, even before I knew what you were. Don't ask me to do this. Please, Tony. Don't.

I can't.

If she doesn't, she'll watch Stane kill Tony, and if she does, she'll have killed him herself.

"Hold still Tony." She can hear the smile in Stane's voice, a rocket goes off, too close.

The switch is freezing in her hand.

"Do it!"

Pepper closes her eyes and pulls down. If nothing else, she'll see Stane burn for this.

The blast throws her against the guardrail. Pepper's head snaps back in time to see Tony blasted back into the shaft, out of the way ¬- oh thank you thank you Tony - and Stane-

Stane screams, engulfed in blue fire. Tony doesn't see any of it and Pepper is stupidly, ridiculously glad. She doesn't have time to feel bad for thinking that sort of sexist trash because Stane's starting to fall and Pepper is not going to stand around and be crushed.

She manages to throw herself outside, drop flat and cover her ears- it's not a noise, rather more of a earth-deep whoomp sensation that leaves every bone and all of her teeth vibrating in unison.

Even through closed lids, the light leaves such bright afterimages that when Pepper opens her eyes, she can't even see, navigating over broken glass by the small fires and bits of smouldering wreckage. "Tony?"

There's nothing, her phone rings out a long beep.

Pepper gets to the emergency stairs and finally kicks off her shoes to sprint up, dialling 911 on the way up.

It's ringing and -oh no, Tony, Tony- He's not moving and the armor is a burnt-out wreck. He groans something incoherent when she gets to him.

"Hello-" The voice on the other end of the line sounds more harried than usual.

"This is the Stark Industries complex-"

"We have already received fifty seven calls on your behalf and have dispatched police, fire-brigade and ambulances to your location." The woman sounds weary. "ETA ten minutes. Is there anything else, or would you also like us to dispatch electricians, or maybe a plumber?"

"Fuck you." Pepper hangs up on the asshole and crouches next to Tony. "Tony? Tony!"

He opens one eye, and smiles, a bit awkwardly considering the cuts on his face. "I gotta do that again." It's the most unconvincing bravado in the world.

Pepper laughs, helplessly, and sits next to him as the wailing sirens come closer.

 

* * *

 

It's the second time Tony's been in this position. He doesn't have to rely on Stane for a script this time. Pepper wrote him this one. He looks down at it and the words are a blur of black and white and nothing. He doesn't feel any less sick.

Tony takes a deep breath, there are a lot of people, and he has to say something. He blinks and it's eighteen years ago, the same faces, the same unreal blur, the same knotting pain and despair in his belly. He blinks again, swallows, takes a deep breath to settle himself in here and now.

"Obadiah Stane," He starts, and the words don't gag him, "Was a great man. A visionary, a leading light at Stark industries-"

Everyone is nodding and Tony has to take another deep breath to maintain composure, control. The board are still not happy with him, having a meltdown in the middle of a funeral would be unhelpful.

"He was, in many ways, my father. Treated me, like my father did. My father would say I was lucky to have him." It's not in Pepper's script, but Tony would like to say something in this farce that isn't complete garbage.

He looks around the crowd, his mouth going by itself and hopefully he's not going to add words like a sick fucking monster and complete sociopath to the speech. His eyes meet Pepper's. She's standing next to Rhodey and Agent Coulson. All three of them are looking ill at what Tony's having to say. They're there. They know the truth. It gives him some strength.

"I will miss him, we will all miss him. As friend and mentor."

There's applause. Right, long enough talking bullshit. Tony needs a drink or ten. He gets off the podium and Pepper hands him a martini. Tony downs it, and feels a bit better.

"That was-"

"Yeah, I know."

"Just, how did you manage, after what he did-"

"I've had practise, come on."

He would have liked to blow the funeral off entirely - hell, Pepper would have backed him up. But the board, even with its Obadiah teeth pulled, are still vicious and there have been far too many references to 'over-emotional Omegas making the company into a mockery' for Tony to be comfortable. And while Pepper could have the board for breakfast and pick her teeth with their bones, she's still too Beta for their liking.

So, Tony has to be there, to show his face, to make a little speech at the grave of the man who tried to kill him once, then attempted to turn that to rape and forced breeding, and when that didn't work either, went back to murder.

Stane must have really wanted to one-up Howard at something.

"Are you okay for your statement?" Coulson falls into step beside him. The Alpha smell still makes him jumpy, although Coulson's being perfectly decent. His teeth itch with the proximity, and if his urge to run around Alphas has turned into one to attack, Tony is pretty much entirely okay with that.

"Yeah." The statement, the fucking statement he has to give in an interview in front of fuck knows how many drooling idiots who are actually going to believe this shit. No, I was on a yatch, not really, nowhere near here. That Iron Man fellow that thousands of you saw, no connection. Even though he was fighting in the Stark Industries complex. Even though he was using Starktech, even though he was using an arc reactor and only Stark Industries makes arc reactors.

No, really, it was his bodyguard. His bodyguard. Some fucking Alpha Tony hired to wear the suit. And they'd believe it. The statement's already been issued by Stark Industries, Tony just has to back it up. Because Tony is an Omega, and Omega CEOs are already dodgy, what would it be like if one of them was actually trying to protect us, and (clutches pearls) actually good at it? The world might fucking end.

And Stane? A tragic accident coming back from vacation. Tragic, tragic. Hundreds of mourners, tons of press, Tony Stark the grieving protégé.

They believe it, that's the most fucking depressing thing about it. They all lap it up. Who is Iron Man has been plastered over just about every fucking newspaper in the country (probably beyond) except for Vanity Fair who is running a special expose (read: wild mass guessing) on the possible relationship between Tony Stark and his bodyguard that made Tony want to punch something.

At least Christine's pulled her lawsuit, although there are still a lot of really pissed-off Betas embarrassed at having let an Omega fuck them. Tony's had Jarvis block the tabloid news feeds because right now everything on there at best has him lose hope for humanity and at worse risks setting him off on a panic attack.

The latest TMZ shitfest speculating on his relationship with Stane had him going down to the workshop to sit quietly under a table until he felt more comfortable with not screaming and Jarvis finished uploading sixty-eight viruses to their servers. It's been three days, and they're still not back online.

What’s worst are the Omega web publications, a scathing commentary on his cowardice on hiding for so long, for using his wealth to pretend to be something else to avoid the problem of being an Omega in an unequal world. For not being the figurehead they badly needed.

I didn't ask for this

But would it have been that bad, not to have hidden? He'd have been spared this mess, and it- it wasn't bad, of itself. Yes, the Heats were a pain but who knows what he could have created, had he not doped himself on Destrogestrel for eighteen years, if he'd just come out and gotten it over with-

At seventeen. After Howard. With Obadiah as his guardian.

Fuck, how had he lived to see twenty, living with these monsters?

He doesn't say anything when they brief him. Pepper is quiet, professional, but he can see the clenched muscle in her jaw, how she's gritting her teeth and is, if anything, even angrier about this than Tony is.

She's on his side. She's got his back. Maybe because she feels she has to, almost-but-not-quite-Alpha Pepper Potts, always with something to prove, to show she's as tough as all Alphas and then some. Almost but not quite. Which is just as well, because otherwise Tony couldn't do this.

She's arranging his suit and he drops his head on her shoulder, closes his eyes. It's okay. There are no cameras. There's no one to see. There's no one to care if he needs this, just for one moment.

Pepper freezes, Tony feels her breathe, he can hear her heart beat. Then her arms come up, and he's in the best hug he's had for- for-

Forever, really. The only people who've ever hugged him are Yinsen and the bots' rough attempts. This is so much better. He breathes, and he can smell her perfume, and her underneath it. She's warm and safe, and solid against him. It's not magic, they're not Bond-compatible, but it's real, it's now. And right now, he needs this.

Pepper's rubbing his back, murmuring something into his hair, a whispered monologue of it's okay, it's okay, it's over.

He pulls back and everything's just a little better, the burden a little lighter, the pain just a bit less. Pepper brushes his hair back into position. She looks at him, smiles. "You're the bravest person I know."

"Not the bravest Omega?"

"Person. In the world."

Tony smiles, Pepper smiles. He hopes she'll forgive him for the bomb he's about to detonate in the next few minutes. Alpha bodyguard my slick Omega ass.

"Will that be all Mr Stark?"

"That will be all, Ms Potts."


End file.
